


Ferocity

by bandedbulbussnarfblat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Parents, Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandedbulbussnarfblat/pseuds/bandedbulbussnarfblat
Summary: Abbie dies with her parents and from their deaths Bela is born.  Abbie was a scared little girl, but Bela will be something else entirely.





	Ferocity

**Author's Note:**

> I've got this headcanon that Bela came from Men of Letters and I needed to write a story on it. I've made Bela and Toni cousins here. Also in this fic it's obvious that Bela's father was sexually abusing her, but none of that ever happens on screen, thus I didn't use the rape/noncon tag.

“_When a man wants to murder a tiger he calls it sport; when a tiger wants to murder him he calls it ferocity.” George Bernard Shaw_

The Bevells have always been involved in the supernatural, Abbie's mother tells her when she's just shy of thirteen.

They helped build the Men of Letters, and Abbie is a legacy, she's going to keep the family name strong. It doesn't matter that her mother isn't a Bevell anymore, she changed her name when she got married, but that's fine. Abbie doesn't need to go by her father's last name; when she takes up the mantle of man of letters, she can use whatever name she wants. The Men of Letters are experts at creating identities; she can build herself in her own design.

This is the first time Abbie thinks of a life outside of her father's control, a life that could be her own, untied to him in any way. A life she could shed his name, his claim, where she wouldn't be _his_, only her own.

It hardly matters that she'll spend that life studying monsters; learning what makes them tick and how to take them apart. Monsters are nothing new; she's been surrounded by them all her life. And now, she'll finally know how to destroy them.

To Abbie, it feels like freedom.

///

Her mother _knows_.

Abbie is nearly certain of it when she finally gathers the courage to tell her. Her mother is sitting at her vanity, carefully applying the day's tasteful makeup. A lady must always look her best, her mother likes to say, but never look cheap. Too much makeup is cheap and tacky, too little is lazy. There is a fine line between the two, as hard to balance as anything else with her mother is. Her perfect mother, with her perfect hair and perfect makeup and perfect family. And then there is Abbie, her perfect daughter, never quite good enough, never the image her mother had of her, never fitting inside the lines she's drawn. Poor not good enough Abbie, about to shatter her mother's perfect life.

“I need to talk to you. About dad.”

Her mother freezes, only a second, a small moment of fear in her eyes before her face smooths over, but Abbie sees it. It is the only time she has ever seen her mother afraid. She hadn't thought her capable of the feeling. “What about him, dear? Did you two get in a fight?”

“No, nothing like that.” Abbie says, swallowing thickly. Her chest is tight, and she's suddenly very aware of her body, the way her long hair is mused and the part not quite even, the scrape on her knee, the dirt under her nails, the snag in her hemline. All little flaws her mother will no doubt see. And why should she believe her, when Abbie looks like this? Like a child who refuses to grow up and give up playing outside, whose clothes are rumpled and legs are scratched. Who would want someone like her?

Her mother glances over at her, bored and imperious. She has a way of looking at Abbie like she is an afterthought, like something she forgets if it isn't directly in front of her. “Well, what then?”

The fear is there under her icy voice. For a moment, a brief, shining moment, hope flares in Abbie's heart. If her mother suspects then she'll believe her, she'll protect her. She'll make it stop; she'll _save_ her. “He...hurts me. When you aren't around.”

“Nonsense, your father loves you, he'd never lay a hand on you.” Her mother's voice is prim and matter of fact; Abbie's heart sinks.

“He doesn't hit me. It's a different kind of hurt.”

Her mother keeps her eyes on the mirror, perfectly applying a layer of mascara. It's import for her mother to present a certain image. “I hardly know what you're implying Abbie, but if you're angry with your father making up lies isn't the way to solve things. I thought I raised you better than that.”

Abbie's breath shakes and she squeezes her eyes shut. Her stomach is in knots and her chest is so tight she feels like she can't breathe, like any moment she'll faint like one of those ladies in the Victorian novels. A tear escapes and runs down her cheek; Abbie clenches her fists at her sides and her whole body shakes, but she won't cry. Not here, not like this. Crying is weakness and her mother doesn't tolerate that.

Silence hangs heavy for a long, horrible moment until her mother finally speaks. “You know, I think you're old enough to learn more about our family history. Your uncle runs one of our smaller operations; I think a few weeks spent with him and your cousin would do you some good.”

_A few weeks away from you father_, she means but does not say. Why would she say such a thing aloud? Saying it would make it true, would mean having to look at it for the ugly thing it was, and didn't her mother prefer her pretty lies? This is, Abbie realizes, her mother's way of protecting her. Not enough, not nearly enough, just like Abbie was not enough. Abbie was almost good enough; her mother almost loved her. It makes the sting that much sharper, makes the pain slice that much deeper.

Her mother is a monster, as surely as her father. One day she will escape them for good, until then, she'll survive. She'll survive anyway she has to.

///

She'll be starting Kendricks in the fall, but Toni is older, has already been there two years and it's _all_ she talks about. Abbie feigns listening; Toni likes the sound of her own voice more than conversation. Mostly Abbie likes the library, it's there that she reads books about monsters, all the things that go bump in the night. It's fascinating stuff, but more than the books she likes the artifacts. There's a plethora of supernaturally powered things, priceless and dangerous and expressly forbidden for her to touch.

Arthur Ketch comes over sometimes and he and Toni disappear for a few hours. They don't seem to get along, really, but Toni tells her that some day she'll understand. Abbie thinks she understands it just fine; they like having sex with each other and not much else. It hardly seems the basis for a relationship, but Abbie isn't going to tell Toni that. She likes staying with Toni, likes being free of her father.

One night she's lying in bed, trying to sleep and her door creaks open. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to be asleep, hopes whoever it is can't hear the rapid beating of her heart. She did this sometimes when her father came in, hoping that he would just leave. It only worked a few times, but it's the only defense she knows.

A hand slides over her leg, lands on her knee. She's under the blankets and she wants to scream, but she freezes. The hand shakes her knee lightly. “I know you're awake, Abbie.”

It's Ketch. Abbie's stomach sinks. Arthur can't want her, surely not. He has Toni, pretty and wordly Toni, who makes Abbie look like a silly little girl. “Toni sent me to get you; we have something to show you.”

Abbie opens her eyes, relief sharp and consuming. She's safe; it's only Toni inviting her along to one of her after curfew excursions. It makes her feel grown up in a way, like she's worthy of being included. She follows Ketch, still in her nightgown. He barely glances at her. Abbie feels silly for thinking him a threat; in his eyes she's little more than a child, a puppy nipping at Toni's heels.

They end up in a sub basement, an area that's been forbidden to Abbie since she arrived. Her uncle tolf her once she enrolls in Kendricks that she can have access, but not until then. She understands why once she's inside—there are cells with various wards, holding cells for monsters. The Men of Letters hold them sometimes before killing them to study them.

Toni is standing in front of one such cell, her dark eyes glinting with mirth and her smile blood-thirsty. “Abbie, come look. It's a werewolf.”

Abbie follows and sees the creature inside. It's chained with silver manacles, struggling to break free, foaming at the mouth. It was a woman, once, no older than her mother. Now it's a beast. “Is it safe to be that close to it?”

Toni laughs. “The chains will hold. Poor Abbie, always so scared.” Her face twists into something ugly. “You'll never make it at Kendricks with that attitude. You need to be strong. That's what tonight's for.”

Ketch slides an arm around her from behind. He presses something into her palm, a gun, Abbie realizes. He guides her arms up, moves her body into the proper stance. It's all very impersonal, he touches her like she's a mannequin. She still doesn't like it, doesn't like strange hands on her body. “Have you ever shot a gun?”

Abbie shakes her head.

“There's a bit of a kickback, don't hold your arms so stiff,” Ketch instructs. “Just aim and pull the trigger; it's easy.”

“You want me to shoot it? Won't we get in trouble?”

Toni snorts. “They're going to kill it anyway. Might as well be us that does it.”

Her and Arthur share a manic sort of look. They're both predators, Abbie realizes, that's why they like each other. Both were ruthless and mercenary. They both enjoyed the kill. Abbie doesn't think she has it in her to enjoy this.

“You'll get to go into Kendricks saying you killed a werewolf. How many people can say that?” Toni says excitedly.

Abbie looks at the werewolf. She can't do this, she can't. She closes her eyes and pulls the trigger. She misses.

“Don't close your eyes,” snaps Ketch. “Look where you're aiming.”

Abbie steps closer and slides back into the proper stance. She aims and put her finger on the trigger. She thinks of the woman's family—are they missing her? Do they know what she is? She's only a monster this one night a month, she's as human as Abbie the rest of the time. She'd be shooting a person, not just a monster.

Her hands shake. She drops the gun. It skids closer to the werewolf. Abbie drops to her knees, leans forward to grab it. Too close to the werewolf; it lunges at her. Abbie and Toni both scream. Abbie's eyes close and she knows she's going to die.

Something warm drips down on her face.

Abbie opens her eyes to see a silver blade sticking out of the chest of the werewolf, Ketch behind it. Toni runs to her side and pulls her to her feet. “You idiot, you stupid girl, what were you thinking?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry-” Abbie says, breaks off and nearly sobs. “I couldn't do it.”

Toni sighs. “You really are disappointing, Abbie.”

///

After, Arthur finds her in the library.

He eyes her critically before sliding into the seat next to hers. “Someone hurt you.”

Abbie whips her head around to look at him. “What?”

“You flinched when I touched you.”

“Maybe I just don't like you.”

Ketch smiles. “I'm used to that. You were scared.”

Abbie says nothing, there's nothing to say. She wishes he would leave and leave well enough alone.

“What was it, some boyfriend who wouldn't take no for an answer?”

It's easier than the truth. “Something like that.”

“Toni doesn't know.” It isn't a question, not really.

“She wouldn't understand.”

He nods. “There are more monsters in the world than the kind we study.”

His head tilts and he looks at her. “But we have ways of dealing with them too.”

He slides a book over to her. It's on curses and hexes. Ways to use magic to hurt someone. “Men of Letters kill monsters. So kill yours.”

“I—thank you, for saving my life,” Abbie says, because it's all she knows how to say. She doesn't know how to address that statement.

It's the last time she ever sees Arthur Ketch.

///

The curses are a no go—Abbie has seen first hand that she hasn't got it in her to pull the trigger. Metaphorical or no. But there are other ways. Ways that she shouldn't even consider. But she does.

She buries the box at the crossroads near her school. She makes the deal—both her parents dead.

The Men of Letters will certainly figure it out. They can tell a demon deal when they see one. It's why she goes to her uncle's and nabs a few precious artifacts he won't notice are missing for awhile. There are plenty of people who will pay well for them. She'll be on the run from here out. She thinks the United States sounds nice—their Men of Letters branch is in shambles, they have hunters doing all the dirty work. It'll make things easier.

Abbie dies with her parents and from their deaths Bela is born. Abbie was a scared little girl, but Bela will be something else entirely.

For the first time, she is free.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear any thoughts y'all had.


End file.
